


Betrayals and Truths

by Anyawen



Series: fanwork poetry remixes [12]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest 2020, Don't copy to another site, Help from an unlikely source, Janus - Freeform, M/M, a betrayal that wasn't, he hunts those who would use him, more faces than one, more faces than two, poetry remix, team00
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyawen/pseuds/Anyawen
Summary: He sees through their lies and digs for the truth. Some he finds. Some he is given. He and his mysterious ally work together toward the same goal.
Relationships: Alec Trevelyan & Q, James Bond/Alec Trevelyan, James Bond/Q
Series: fanwork poetry remixes [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591081
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Betrayals and Truths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bonesandchekov (blueharlequin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueharlequin/gifts).



> This is a freeform poetry remix of bonesandchekov (blueharlequin)'s fic [Phantom Handler](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481884).

they want him to think it was deliberate,  
an unforgivable act of betrayal.  
they give him a position,  
a place and a purpose  
and expect him to be theirs.

he takes what they give him,  
acts as they expect,  
but janus has more than one face  
and even as he plays his part  
he hunts for the things they hide.

they value him for what he does  
but moreso for who he is  
and how he can be used,  
as a conduit for passing intelligence,  
and as a weapon to hurt james

he finds traces of ghosts and shadows  
they know he's looking  
they know he's found them  
they try to bargain, to tempt  
he continues to play their game.

he also keeps digging.  
he uncovers things until he doesn't  
and the place where things dry up  
is very interesting ...  
as is the appearance of a helping hand.

the provided lead checks out  
as does the one that follows  
and he takes steps  
and he makes plans  
and continues his silent war.

he knows better than to believe  
the reports of james' death,  
and continues to trust the leads  
from his unidentified source  
—and reaches back

a pair of cats, a bookcase, a cup of tea  
and long slim fingers  
and his email ghost becomes human.  
the source of useful intelligence  
and a photo of james.

addressed by a familiar title  
he'd not expected to hear again  
he is offered a chance  
to do a job that will benefit  
queen-and-country, and james.

his phantom handler points him  
to the man who had pulled his strings  
to turn him into a weapon  
aimed at his country, at his friend.  
he asks for a gun.

an art gallery, a man, a case left behind  
and time enough to find the perfect spot.  
admiring the gun he was given  
he waits, he shoots, he slips away  
leaving the gun, and james, behind.

he helped to bring down  
the ghosts in the shadows.  
he is satisfied knowing that the safety  
of the man who, unknowing, left him behind  
has been assured.

he is not expecting a reward  
beyond the feeling of a job well done  
and the offer to return to a life  
he'd thought forever beyond his reach  
comes as a shock.

he is tempted, though, by the thought  
of meeting the man  
behind the messages  
the helping hand whose identity  
he had deduced, and ignored

what is he to do with the knowledge  
that the man who is offering  
to bring him in from the cold  
is the quartermaster of MI6  
and james' partner

the awareness that he wants  
—to meet, to go home, to go back—  
and that he _is wanted_ in return  
makes him hesitate.  
he waits, and he thinks, and he plans

and he takes too long to decide  
and his past comes to find him  
and invite him into his future  
—a future shared with a man he'd thought lost  
and a man he'd gained in keeping him safe.

and so, he goes home.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed this fic a lot, and don't think this poem quite does it justice. It's a basic retelling of the fic, rather than something that delves into it to pull the emotions out and lay them bare. It's ten minutes to midnight on 'poetry day' on the last day of the 2020 007 fest. I'm posting this now, because this version is done. But, I think I'll be back to try to rework it. I hope I am. After I sleep for a week.


End file.
